room for some small talk
by KyhCad33
Summary: Love letters they never write. [collection of 200 word drabbles, modern!au]
1. Dancing in the Rain

**A/N:** This is for a friend who's begun to run out of fanfics to read xD

Inspiration comes from a prompt list by tumblr user lacktwo—moved (prompts inserted in titles), pairing is crack because I've been having withdrawal symptoms, word limit is 200 for a challenge.

Enjoy!

 **I do not own Fire emblem.**

 **P.S.** The way this site counts words is different from how Microsoft Word does (can you believe they count contractions as _two_?); trust me when I say every drabble's exactly 200!

* * *

"You're getting water on your boots," he says.

Humming, she splashes puddles with wayward kicks. He stands to the side, rain hitting his umbrella in soft pats. "I'm not going to get sick," she tells him. "Kliff once told me you get colds when you have viruses. Being wet doesn't mean anything."

"Faye." She stills, listens long enough for him to pull her hood down to her eyes. "There's no harm in precautions."

Her mouth grins. "It's cute when you worry."

"Thank you." But he doesn't let go.

"Oh Lukas." Her voice rings, bell-like. She grabs his hand, the one on her raincoat, and puts it on her waist. Water slides onto his skin. "Look, it's becoming a drizzle."

He stares at her. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"Just one dance," she presses. "Like in that movie. No one's here to watch."

"Faye."

"A waltz." She touches his shoulder, then the fingers so tightly curled. "Here, under the umbrella."

When she looks up, eyes wide and bright and her face lit up in delight, he can't hear the rain anymore.

"But the stance is awkward," he mutters.

"I know." She laughs. " _I know_."

He kisses her cheek and spins her around.


	2. Skeletons in the Closet

He holds her hand and it feels heavy. But she leans into it—closed, hot, messy—because it's become home.

A slow song fills the air. All eyes are on the newlyweds, getting ready for their first dance, and she's sitting on a chair and holding his hand.

"Don't you think Celica's dress is gorgeous?" she whispers. "Her train looks like a cape."

"Yes," he says. "They call it a watteau."

"And _s_ _he's_ always beautiful. In the way she walks, talks. Is. Must be why people love her—because she's like this."

"...Do you still love Alm?"

She laughs. "No. But you never forget your first love, you know?" Another laugh, more nervous than the last. "Isn't it embarrassing? Thinking I ever had a chance?"

"Of course not. That's just how the world works."

She nods.

"Have you settled," he says quietly, "for someone you can have a chance with?"

"Why settle when I can find someone who loves me as much as I love them?"

His eyes search hers. Earnest and true. He smiles. "To be quite honest, I think the most beautiful girl in the room is holding my hand."

She smiles back. "Then don't let her go."


	3. Possession of the Soul

**A/N:** If you've noticed, I'm not following the prompts to a T; this one's a pretty egregious example x)

* * *

As the credits roll on the TV, he says, "So, what do you think?"

She blows on a tissue. "We're never watching it again."

He cracks a smile. "But it was a good movie."

"They didn't deserve that!" Sniffling, she pulls on the blanket and leans onto his chest. "They just wanted to be happy!"

"They will be," he reassures her. "In another life."

"In another—what? Don't you get it?" She cranes up her neck. "He sacrificed his soul so he can never reincarnate again. And if you remember the intro—the myth exposition thingamajig—that means she'll be missing a part of her forever!"

"Ah, but what if she finds another lost half? Two parts make a whole."

She frowns. "That's not how soulmates work."

"It isn't," he agrees. "But humans like finding ways to overcome heartbreak, and patch each other up when they can."

They stare at each other. She listens to the rhythm of his chest—strong, safe, steady. "...You're right." Closing her eyes, she hugs him, tucked right under his chin. "Then can we—can we stay like this? Just for a little while."

His throat rumbles. "We have all the time in the world."


	4. Pockets of the Universe

"Hey, Lukas?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think there are other universes out there? Alternate dimensions or something?"

He looks up from the newspaper, quizzical. "No," he says slowly. "Why do you ask?"

She shrugs, pouring milk in a bowl. "Shower thought."

"Mm. Well, I'd like to think there's one reality, and it's the one we're living in. The idea that a version of myself exists without regrets makes this world seem more dismal."

"I get what you mean. But wouldn't it be fun if there was another you? Like, how bad would _I_ be as president?" Her spoon wags at the front page. "I can see the headlines already: 'Young Female Runs Country to the Ground.' I'd be famous!"

He chuckles. "While I don't support it, it's a good setting for a sci-fi. As a matter of fact, so are pocket universes."

"...What are those?"

"Nested cosmos."

"Oh! You mean, like the Milky Way being a marble?"

"Right."

She stuffs food in her mouth, chews, and swallows. "So in this pocket of the universe, we're having a good morning. And my cereal to milk ratio is perfect."

The page flips. "I suppose."

She beams. "Then I like being in this one."


	5. The Sky was Ablaze

Grim, he hands her a sparkler. "Remember what I told you: keep it at arm's length, no horseplay, and don't light one without my knowledge."

She grins. "You sound like I've never used these."

"I trust you," he says. "Just be careful."

"I promise not to lose my fingers!" Grabbing the barbecue lighter, she watches the tip crackle with flashes. Sparks fall to the asphalt before burning out. The neighbours are doing the same, kids squealing in delight as their firecrackers pop. She makes a figure eight, some zigzags. "Light one up too, Lukas."

He does. They wave the sparklers around in straight lines, circles, waves, shapes. When the lights burn out, they drop the sticks in a bucket of water.

"That was fun," she chirps. "Why don't we—oh!"

They hear them before they see them, loud noises popping overhead. All around, people begin to point and chatter, watching splashes of vivid colour paint the sky.

She's giddy. "Fireworks! Is it twelve yet?"

He checks his watch, shakes his head. "Ten more minutes."

"Huh. Guess it means I have time to do this though." She grabs a second sparkler.

"Do...? Ha!" He laughs. "How endearing."

She draws another heart.


	6. Finger on Your Lips

He parks the car in the driveway. It's dark, a bit past midnight. The air is cold, the streetlamps are dim, and he feels dead tired.

But the houselights are on—warm, inviting, welcoming him back. Shrugging off his jacket, he heads straight to the kitchen to sate his empty stomach.

He stops when he spots her on the couch.

"Faye?" he calls out softly. "Why are you still awake?"

No response.

Worried, he walks over to check. She's sitting up but her head is nodding off. Hands that were once knitting have long become slack.

Oh, he thinks. She's sleeping.

He kneels to stare at her face, then brushes the corner of her mouth to push a strand of hair away.

Her eyes twitch. "Ngh... Lukas?" She sits straighter. "Welcome back," she mutters. "I tried waiting... Tired..."

"Shh," he says. "Stay asleep."

"Food... Fridge... Eat, 'kay?"

"I will." A kiss to the cheek. "Let's get you in bed now, shall we?"

After he tucks her under the blankets, he pulls out something to eat. There's a note on the cover of the Tupperware.

 _'good work today! love u lots'_

He smiles, more energized, and sticks it on the fridge.


	7. Connecting Mouths

She scrolls through her phone and absentmindedly asks, "Do you remember the summer when you sprained your ankle?"

He grimaces. "That's not a memory I want to revisit."

"Sorry, sorry! I didn't mean it like that. It's just, I was looking through my camera roll and found this."

Leaning in, he sees them wearing matching sunglasses. Her arms are crossed, he's smiling amiably. "That's the day we went to the beach."

"Haha! Yeah. I was trying to look cool." She flips through some more photos. "We spent the day making sandcastles."

"You could've had fun with your friends," he says. "Celica was swimming. There was a volleyball game."

She pouts. "But I wanted to stay with you. When we're together, don't you think everything's more fun?"

"...You're right. I'm sorry."

"S'long as you know." She stops. "I found it!" Her fingers fly as she rushes to send a text.

His brows furrow. "Is that...?"

"Gray and Clair in a passionate make out session? Yep." She shrugs. "Just a little blackmail. I told him I'll send it to her brother if he didn't shape up."

"Remind me to never make you angry."

She presses her lips on his. "You'll be fine."


	8. Flesh Against Flesh

**A/N:** Echoes is out in the West! How exciting!

There might be some OOC issues for Faye and Lukas now, but I hope you'll still enjoy the drabbles :)

Thanks for reading!

* * *

He finishes wiping the dishes when he hears her squeak. The knife falls on the chopping board as she inspects her index finger.

He's alarmed. "What's wrong?"

"I nicked myself." She waves her good hand. "It's okay. It doesn't hurt."

That's true—there's little to no blood and it looks like a paper cut. "I'll get the first aid kit."

She gives him a look. "It's not a big deal. Just let me finish cooking."

"Run it under hot water," he tells her. "I'll be right back."

She grumbles. But as he rummages through the drawers in the next room, he hears the faucet running. When he comes back, she's obediently by the sink.

He hands her a clean towel. "Pat it dry."

"Yes, Sir."

He takes out the antiseptic and a cotton swab. "This might sting."

She nods, then winces.

Working in silence, their fingers tangle together as he covers her skin with adhesive. Then he kisses it.

"Thanks." Eyeing it with amusement, she asks, "Since when did we have Hello Kitty band-aids?"

"Since the last time they went on sale."

She laughs. "If you get hurt, you're getting one of these slapped on you."

He smiles. "I know."


	9. In Your Arms

**A/N:** I added this disclaimer on AO3, but I guess I forgot to repeat it here: no matter how suggestive the prompts may seem, the drabbles themselves aren't going to be any more than corny cheesiness :P

 **Mr. Mime279:** Thank you so much for your review! I also wish they had supports together (in fact, when I first saw them, I thought they would), but alas...

Thanks for reading, everyone!

* * *

They walk together in silence. She stares at the sidewalk before saying, "You don't step on the cracks either."

He looks at her, then realizes what she means. "Actually, I'm not opposed to it. But I'd rather not—they make my feet feel uneven."

" _That's_ your reason?" Her mouth quirks. "Makes sense. You aren't superstitious."

"I was scared as a child," he admits. "Once, I made a misstep and rushed to find Mother."

"And that's when you stopped believing?"

"Correct." They walk a little further. "Why don't you step on them?"

She frowns. "Dad always jokes about old age and back problems. I don't want to jinx it."

"But he does more heavy lifting than men half his age!"

"Right? I know he says it to mess with me, but I—eep!"

She stumbles forward. Catching her by the waist, he pulls her into a hug. Her heart hammers in surprise.

"Are you alright?" he whispers.

"Yeah," she whispers back. "I think my feet tripped on something and..." She looks down to see them digging into a crevice.

They glance at each other.

"...Would it be silly if I called home?" she asks.

He shakes his head. "Not at all."


	10. A Bitter Taste

She checks the thermometer and nods. "Your temperature is lower. How are you feeling?"

His skin still burns, head still hurts. "Not bad. Or good."

"Give it a day or two." He closes his eyes, muttering an assent, and drifts off to sleep as she starts a lullaby.

The next time he wakes, the sun is setting behind the curtains. His vision is clearer, thoughts a bit more coherent. He sees her sitting on a chair and cutting apples.

When she notices him, she sets down the fruit knife. "Lukas! I was just about to wake you."

He finds the strength to sit up. A towel falls from his forehead. "Were you here the whole time?"

She giggles. "Of course not. Here, take your medicine."

Gulping it down, he flinches.

"Bitter?" A nod. She pushes the plate of fruits on his lap. "Eat something sweet."

He looks at it, at her, then holds her hand. "Tell me what you did today," he says softly.

She thinks. "There was nothing special—oh! No, I lied. The new batch of geraniums are blooming now."

He clears his throat, voice stronger. "Sounds like a good day."

She smiles. "And better now than ever."


	11. Legs Tangled

**A/N:** Wow, guys! Thanks for all the views/faves/follows; it's amazing to see this li'l drabble collection get so much love.

 **ishygddt456:** Glad you like it! Your support means a lot to me :D

* * *

His eyes narrow as he glances at his pile of clothes. "I'm afraid folding isn't in my repertoire of skills."

"You say that every time we do the laundry." She adds a shirt to her side of the couch. "You're not as bad as you think."

He eyes her work, crisp and clean. His is lousy in comparison. "Really."

"Alright, you're not the best. But I like it when you help me, you know?"

Picking up a pair of pants, he stares as if it had offended him.

She watches him struggle for a moment before bursting out in laughter. "Okay, okay! Stop. You're going to wrinkle that." Grabbing another pair, she flaps it well before spreading it across her lap. "Watch me: first, you tuck in the pockets."

He does.

"Then you fold it in half," she tells him, "like so."

He does, hesitantly.

"Make it a rectangular shape, fold it into thirds." Practiced hands pat it down. "And tada! You're done."

"...The legs on mine are crooked."

"It's your best one yet." She nudges his foot with hers. "So, how about we try a sweater?"

Sighing, he fishes one from the bin. "May the gods give me strength."


	12. Raindrops on Hair

**magicalbell:** Wahhh, what a sweet compliment! Thanks so much! It's always amazing when my stories change people's opinions :D I hope you continue liking the collection!

* * *

Inside the flower shop, she sees raindrops hitting the pavement. Excited, she looks outside. The skies are cloudy but the sun is there—a sun shower.

She grins to herself and wonders if this is a good sign or a bad omen. Then she grins even wider when someone enters the store.

The rest of the day is busy, more orders placed than usual. She talks to her customers and finds out what they're here for: parents, anniversaries, patients being discharged. The feel-good stories keep her chipper.

It's nearing lunch time when the shop's bell interrupts her mid-conversation—a nice kid and his babysitter are buying a surprise for his mother's birthday—and she blinks at the door, both happy and confused. "Lukas! You're out early."

He shakes his head, letting water fall from his hair. "School's a half day today. Did I not tell you?"

She turns sheepish. "Guess I forgot." Giving the boy his change, she waves him goodbye. "It's still raining, huh?"

"Mm. Though it's become a drizzle." He studies her. "Have you eaten yet?"

"Nope." A glance to the clock. "But I will soon."

He smiles and brings out the take-out behind his back. "How's Chinese?"


	13. Dance Beneath the Stars

He stares at the planetarium projector in her hands. "Did you get that for Kliff?"

"Yeah." Putting it down, she adds, "He's obsessed with space, right?"

A frown. "Yes. But—"

Her thoughts run in a tangent. "I mean, I know it's more astronomy than anything, but Kliff also likes this kind of stuff. So I'm not crazy for buying it."

"Faye, that's—"

She flicks it on and tilts it upwards. A blanket of stars cover the ceiling. "Look! I'd be stoked if someone gave this to me."

"It certainly is beautiful," he admits.

"Plus, he can use it as a disco light." She twists it around, bobbing her head to the imaginary beat. "Think of all the fake outdoor parties he could have inside his house!"

"Tobin bought one too," he blurts out.

"Tob— _what_?"

He nods.

"Tobin," she whines. Shutting it off, she sighs. "And I thought I found the perfect gift too..."

He crouches down beside her and turns it back on, hand resting comfortably on hers. "How about we plan a surprise party and use both of the projectors? Kliff could use two sets of disco lights."

She knocks her head on his shoulder and smiles. "Thanks."


	14. A Cup of Song

**A/N:** My school year's almost over! I'll be back with consistent updates soon :)

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

They settle down by a window seat before he takes a sip of his coffee. Then he makes a face, reaching over to grab a packet of sweetener.

She cocks her head. "Is it bitter?"

Sugar falls into his cup. "Bland."

"Oh, that sucks. Coffee without flavour is just water without the bean."

"The bean?" A hint of amusement washes away as he gives it another taste test. "In that case, I have beanless water."

"Bet you wish you got something else." Watching him suffer for a moment, she says, "Look after my stuff. My stomach wants some tea."

His eyebrows rise. "Don't you mean leaf water?"

She sticks out her tongue and leaves.

As he waits, he stares out the window. People walk to and fro, engrossed in their own business, and he reaches the midpoint of his drink.

She comes back soon after and sets down a cup and a box. The box is pushed across the table.

"You know what they say," she tells him, after seeing his inquisitive look. "A boxful of doughnuts makes the bad coffee go down."

He smiles. "Of course." He gulps the rest of his drink and says, "But so do you."


	15. Quavering Voice

A hiccup echoes through the house. He looks up. Silence returns, so he continues grading his papers.

But when five minutes later he hears it again, he stands to find her. She's in the kitchen, empty cup in one hand. Another covers her mouth.

"Hi," she says, voice cracking as she reigns the next one in. "Sorry if I'm loud but— _hic—_ ow. They hurt. A lot."

"Have a glass of water."

She purses her lips. "I did."

"Try it again."

Dubious, she refills her cup. She starts drinking just as he says, "Did you know Fernand used to be a belly dancer?"

She spits water out.

"That was untrue." He thinks. "But it would be a sight to see."

She gapes. Then she gets it. "Of all the things to say? Seriously?"

Shrug. "Did they stop?"

Instead of answering him, she grabs his shirt and pulls him in for a kiss. When she lets go, he's wide-eyed and startled.

"Karma," she sings. "I can be real petty sometimes."

"Perhaps," he mutters. "But you let grudges go."

Her arms cross. "A surprise for a surprise. Now we're even."

Shaking his head, he leans over to kiss her. " _Now_ we are."


	16. Shards of Glass

**A/N:** Text formatting is different on this site than it is on AO3 because ffnet doesn't...allow text to be aligned on the right?

 **The Apocryphal One:** Thank you! And ahhh, ditto—even though this fic collection is for someone I know, I chose the pairing because I wanted them to be happy. So if it's together? No problem. I'm glad you enjoy their dynamic!

* * *

He gets several texts during his lunch break, phone signalling eight at once. He pauses mid-bite to scroll through messages from a familiar number.

 **Faye**  
 _'Lukas lukas lukas'_  
 _'So I was eating out, right'_  
 _'and I found this REALLY cute cup'_  
 _'like, pretty designs and everything'_  
 _'I think I'm in love *v*'_  
 _'oh'_  
 _'sorry if i'm bugging you at work'_  
 _'i'm just super excited'_

His eyes soften.

 **Me**  
 _'It's okay. I'm eating right now too'_  
 _'Are you going to buy it?'_

 **Faye**  
 _'idk. I thought it looked nice'_  
 _'Should I?'_

 **Me**  
 _'If you want to, I'm not complaining'_

 **Faye** _  
'okie dokie'_  
 _'I'll tell u what happens later'_  
 _'WAIT i found something better'_  
 _'take a look at this'_

She sends a picture of a cup with the letter 'F.' He blinks.

 **Me**  
 _'F for Faye?'_

 **Faye**  
 _'yeah! so you know it's mine'_

 **Me**  
 _'Would it matter? We don't have_ _similar mugs in the house'_

 **Faye**  
 _'but guess what else I found in the store'_

 **Me**  
 _'?'_

 **Faye**  
 _'secret~'_  
 _'I'll give you a hint: it starts with_ _the first letter of your name'_

Connecting two and two together, he grins.

 **Me**  
 _'I can't wait to use it'_

 **Faye**  
 _'I can't either :)'_


	17. Break the Surface

Heaving a box of clementines into the house, she hears him start a "Welcome home" before it fades into a question.

She stares at him. "I wanted oranges."

"...So I see."

"Want some?"

"Sure." As she sets the box down on the kitchen table, he fishes one out. His nail digs into the skin of the orange, peeling it off. "At this rate, we'd need to eat at least two a day."

"It's not _that_ much." She turns the faucet on and rubs soap on her hands. "Besides, I'll finish them if you won't."

"By yourself?"

"Yup!"

"Quite a lot of Vitamin C."

She nods. "So you'll help me eat them, right? Because you wouldn't want me to get sick from eating too much?"

He blinks. Then he frowns. "I'd have helped regardless."

"Yeah, you would. But now that you've said it, there's no way you'd go back on your word."

She stands in front of him, drying her hands with a towel and a cheeky grin.

"You," he sighs, "are much too crafty for your own good."

"And you," she says, "fall for it every time."

He stuffs a slice into her mouth.

She bites it and giggles. "Sweet."


	18. Gliding Through Waves

Wiping her sweat with an arm, she sighs. The afternoon heat sticks to her skin, clammy and gross, and the breeze does nothing to abate it.

He bounds up the corner with a lawnmower in tow. "Have you removed all the weeds yet?"

"There are a couple more. There's an awful lot of them."

"Caused by the weather, surely."

"Yeah—but there's _so_ much! They're making my back hurt."

"Then straighten up," he says, "and do some stretches."

With a groan, she stands and moves her limbs around. Arms swing, legs walk. She tilts her head from side to side.

"Take care of yourself. You—ah, your braid's coming undone." She starts removing her gloves to fix it, but he adds, "Let me do it for you."

"Okay."

He takes the tie off. Fingers weave through her hair, letting them settle into weak curls. He starts from the top and brushes the base of her neck.

She giggles. "Hey, that tickles."

"It wasn't on purpose." But she hears the smile in his voice. And when he ties it all together, she feels the tips of her hair on her back.

"Lukas!"

He laughs as she throws her gloves at him.


	19. Fingers Entwined

**A/N:** School's done! Expect regular updates from now on.

Thanks for reading!

* * *

He sighs and slumps back onto the couch. Eyes close. His pen rolls away.

When she enters the room, she says, "Hey, don't sleep there. You'll get neck cramps."

He grunts and straightens up. "I'm sorry."

"Are you okay?" Leaning over to see his face, she frowns. "What's wrong?"

Hesitant, he says, "I've been reading essays all day. I'm barely halfway through the pile, but..." He winces. "...I'm exhausted."

"When do you need them done by?"

"Next Friday." She opens her mouth. He adds, "With mid-terms approaching, there are many things I need to do. I can't afford to put this off."

They stare at each other. She puts out her palms. "Give me your hands."

He does. She laces their fingers together and waves them around. "Why don't you rest your eyes while I read them aloud? You can take a break but still get stuff done."

"I can't ask you to do that."

"Lukas, I depend on you. So depend on me too, okay?"

He sees her smiling and smiles right back. "Alright. I stopped here."

As he settles onto her lap, she starts, " _'Through evidence in Act I scene iii...'_ "

Her voice sends him to content slumber.


	20. Caressing Silk Strands

The curtains seem a bit dirty. She decides to take them down for a good wash.

Dragging a stool over, she carefully balances herself as she takes off the rod. She runs a hand through the soft material and says, "Hm. What should I replace these with?"

As she puts the curtains in the laundry, she looks through the rooms for another pair. None of them are to her suiting—either out of season or the wrong colour and size.

She'll just have to use the old ones. In the meantime, she could clean the rest of the house.

It's half spotless by the time he comes home, and the dryer signals a finished load. She goes to greet him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He returns the favour.

"Doing chores?" he asks, eyeing her broom. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

She grins. "You can hang up the curtains."

"You took them off by yourself again?"

"Yep! And look, I didn't fall off the chair this time."

" _This time_." He looks at her warily. "I suppose it's an improvement, asking me to do it."

"You should thank your lucky stars," she teases.

"I'd rather thank you."


	21. Bleeding Cosmos

"As you know," she starts, "none of the part-timers were able to come today. I know it's kind of weird for me to be your boss, but bear with it, okay?"

"I'll do my best," he answers.

"Great! Then can I ask you to water the plants at the front? Just do what you'd normally do with our lawn."

He nods and heads out, strapping on a work apron and grabbing the hose. At early morning, the streets on this side of the town are almost empty. It's nice—quiet and relaxing.

While he lets the water run, a batch of flowers catches his eye. They start out as burgundy in the centre and fade into pink by the tips.

They're nice.

He pokes his head back into the shop. "Faye?"

"Yes?"

"These flowers—the ones with the gradient reds—what are they called?"

"What? Oh! They're a special type of cosmos called antiquity."

He looks at them, then back at her. "Do I get a paycheck at the end of the day?"

"Um, no. Why do you ask?"

"I want to give them to someone when I get home."

She smiles. "You're silly. But I'm sure she'll appreciate it."


	22. For a Moment

"Can we talk for a moment?"

He sets down his book to see her arms crossed and face grim. "Of course. Is something wrong?"

Though he pats the space beside him, she remains standing. "No," she says. "I mean, the problem's outside the house. ...You know what? I think it's better if you see it yourself."

Following her to the porch, she motions underneath the steps. He bends over. He blinks. "Is that a cat?"

She nods fervently. "Alm and Celica's. I'd recognize that tag anywhere." Tilting her head, she adds, "I have no idea why he's here, but I can't get him out. That, or he doesn't want to."

The cat turns to them and meows.

He scratches his neck. "They must be worried sick. We should call them over."

"Sounds like a plan." She goes back inside to grab her phone, and snaps a picture of the pet. "There, I sent a text."

Sure enough, after a few minutes, she gets a reply from Alm. "He says they'll be here soon," she tells him. "And thanks, for finding Sir Purr."

He shakes his head. "I'll never get used to that name."

She laughs. "Yeah. But it's pretty cute."


	23. Rolling Thunder

First, there's a flash of light. Then there's rumbling.

She clicks her tongue. "Summer storms are the worst. When you want to have some fun in the sun, they rain on your parade. Literally."

"It could be worse," he says. "For example, having a heatwave when your air conditioner is defective."

"True. But it gets boring waiting for it stop."

"I'll grant you that." He thinks. "Why don't we play a game?"

"Of what?"

"Scrabble."

She sends him a mock frown. "Scrabble, says the English major. But alright, I'm in. Don't get upset when I break your winning streak."

They set up a round, taking turns placing words on the board. As the minutes pass, the storm grows fainter. But they're engrossed in the game.

"'Effusive,'" he says after a few turns. "Bingo."

"Is that even a word?"

"You can call it if you want to."

"Don't trip me up." 'Liken' connects. "So what's it mean?"

"A fancy way of being stoked."

She does a double take and gives him an odd look. Then she bursts into laughter. "'Stoked?' Who taught you how to say that?"

"Python," he says, smiling. "But don't expect much slang to come from my mouth."


	24. Streaks of Clouds

With a yawn, she sets a cup of coffee in front of him. For her, tea. He thanks her and takes a quick sip.

Though used to it, she asks, "Would you ever take your coffee black?"

"I doubt it. It's much like you and your habit with frayed ends."

"Mm." She watches him pour in some milk, stir, and drink it again. "But I really like seeing coffee mix with milk. It's rather calming."

"How so?"

"I mean, when you pour the milk in, it's like the colours are exploding? It all goes fwoosh and fwah until the dark colours turn light." Her shoulders slump. "Sorry, it's hard to explain."

He shakes his head. "No, I understand. It's the sense of satisfaction you get when something is created out of nothing."

She claps. "That's the phrase! It's like watching batter turn into pancakes."

"Or finding a rainbow after the rain."

"Making DIY crafts."

"Accidentally rhyming."

Bright, she asks, "Is there a term for it?"

"I'm not sure," he answers.

"Oh. Well, I guess it doesn't matter." She drinks her tea, leans back in her chair, and closes her eyes. "But I feel it a lot when I'm with you."


	25. Parched Throat

"I don't think it's supposed to turn out like this," she says.

He inspects the blender, frowning at the half-chopped strawberries and bananas. "The blades might be too dull."

She frowns back. "At least it isn't broken. But I wanted to make some smoothies, and I really don't want to waste this."

"You don't have to. If you keep it on, they should break down eventually."

He presses a button. The blender whirls to life. They wait for a few minutes, stopping and restarting whenever the fruits get stuck. It turns into a viscous pulp.

Amused, she says, "All this blending is making me thirsty."

"On the bright side, you won't be for long. Do you want me to get the cups?"

"Yes, please and thank you."

As he places them on the table, she fills them up to the brim. He takes a tentative sip, covering his smile with some smoothie. "It's sweet."

Her brows stitch. "Really? It only tastes like bananas."

"Hence sweet."

"Oh you." She downs the rest of her drink. "I'll make it better next time," she promises.

He wipes off the foam on the corner of her mouth. "I think it's perfect as it is."


End file.
